Ethan paced his dorm room like a caged animal, his boots scuffing the cold stone floor. His heart hammered, a relentless drumbeat of panic that made his chest ache. His hands shook as he raked them through his unfamiliar dark hair, the strands too sleek, too perfect for the mess of a life he'd landed in. One month. He had one month to learn magic, to become someone other than Darius Wycliffe, the talentless noble he'd written to be crushed by Lucien Ashford, the hero of Eidolon: The Sovereign's Path. One month to avoid being humiliated in front of the Arcanium's students and professors at the First-Year Spellcraft Examination.
He stopped pacing, his eyes darting to the desk cluttered with parchment and dusty books. He'd skimmed them earlier, hoping for answers, but all they'd done was confirm what he already feared: Darius was a magical nobody. His notes were filled with basic spells, half-finished runes, and scrawled complaints about how unfair it was that he, a Wycliffe, had to study at all. Ethan groaned, rubbing his temples. "Great. I'm stuck in the body of a whiny rich kid who can't even light a candle without crying about it."
The weight of it all pressed down on him, heavy as the navy-blue robes clinging to his frail frame. The fabric was stiff, embroidered with a golden crest—a winged lion circled by arcane symbols—that screamed privilege he didn't feel. He tugged at the silver-trimmed collar, feeling like a fraud in a costume. He wasn't Darius, not really. He was Ethan Carter, a burned-out writer who'd poured his soul into this world, only to end up trapped in its worst role. But if he didn't figure out how to survive, he'd be the one eating dirt in a month, just like Darius in the original story.
"Okay," he muttered, his voice too smooth, too aristocratic. "Go to class. Learn something. Don't die. Simple enough." He didn't believe it, but saying it out loud kept the panic from swallowing him whole.
He grabbed a crumpled timetable from under a pile of parchment, squinting at the elegant script. First class of the day: Basic Elemental Manipulation. That sounded promising. If he could learn to throw a fireball or something, maybe he'd have a shot at not looking like a total loser in the exam. The problem? The timetable didn't include a map, and the Arcanium was a labyrinth of stone corridors and glowing runes. "Why couldn't I have written this place with a GPS?" he grumbled, shoving the paper into his robe's pocket.
Taking a deep breath, he threw open the door and stepped into the hallway. The Arcanium buzzed with life—students rushing past, their voices a chaotic hum. The air smelled of wax and faint magic, like ozone after a storm. Glowing runes pulsed faintly on the stone walls, their patterns shifting like they were alive. Ethan squared his shoulders, trying to walk with the confidence Darius was supposed to have. But every step felt like a lie, especially when he noticed the stares.
"Is that Wycliffe?" a girl whispered, her voice sharp with disdain.
"Didn't think he'd show his face after last week's mess," a boy muttered.
"Probably just here to coast on his family's name again," another added.
Ethan's jaw clenched, his face burning. He kept moving, head high, but the whispers stung. Kai and Aiden's warning from earlier echoed in his mind: skip classes, and he'd have no chance at the exam. He couldn't afford to screw this up, not when everyone already saw him as a joke.
He turned a corner and slammed into someone, the impact jarring him. Books clattered to the floor, and a startled yelp cut through the noise. A girl stumbled back, her chestnut braid swinging wildly.
"Crap, sorry!" Ethan said, instinctively reaching to help. "You okay?"
The girl's wide eyes locked onto his, and her face paled, fear replacing surprise. "P-Please don't hurt me!" she stammered, her voice shaking. "I-I'm just a scholarship student, I swear I'm not trying to get in your way! I'm working hard, I promise! Just… don't make me drop out!"
Ethan froze, his hand hovering awkwardly. "Wait, what?"
She was trembling, clutching her scattered books like a lifeline. Her big, anxious eyes darted around, like she expected him to attack her right there in the hallway. "Please don't report me to your family or… or ruin my reputation or—"
"Whoa, hold on!" Ethan raised his hands, trying to look non-threatening. "I'm not doing any of that. Relax."
Her eyes narrowed, suspicion mixing with fear. "But… you're Darius Wycliffe," she whispered, like the name itself was a curse.
Ethan's stomach twisted. Of course. He'd written Darius as a bully, the kind of noble who'd torment scholarship students just to feel powerful. No wonder she was terrified. He needed to play the part without going full villain, or she'd think he was possessed. He forced a smirk, hoping it didn't look as awkward as it felt. "Calm down. If I wanted to ruin your life, I'd have done it already."
She flinched, and Ethan winced internally. Too harsh, idiot. He softened his tone, aiming for Darius's arrogance but with a hint of mercy. "Look, I'm in a good mood today. Help me out instead of groveling. I… forgot where the Basic Elemental Manipulation class is."
Her mouth fell open, eyes wide as saucers. "You're… asking me for help?"
"Is that a problem?" he snapped, then cursed himself for sounding too sharp. He needed to keep her on his side, not scare her off.
"N-No! Not at all!" she squeaked, clutching her books tighter. "I'll show you right now!"
"Good. Lead the way," he said, waving a hand like he was dismissing a servant. It felt ridiculous, but it was the kind of thing Darius would do.
She nodded frantically and started down the hall, practically jogging to stay ahead of him. Ethan followed, keeping a few paces back, his mind racing. So, Darius was the kind of guy who made people shake just by existing. That was going to make things so much harder.
The girl—Amara, she'd said her name was—kept glancing back, her face pale, her hands gripping her books like they were armor. Every time their eyes met, she flinched and looked away, her knuckles white. Ethan felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't meant to scare her, but being Darius meant carrying his baggage. He needed to figure out how to navigate this without making everyone hate him more.
"So… Amara, right?" he said, trying to sound casual. "You know your way around here pretty well."
She nearly tripped, her braid bouncing. "I-I… yes, it's Amara Velren," she mumbled, barely audible. "I just… try to stay out of trouble."
Ethan nodded, unsure how to respond without freaking her out further. She was clearly terrified of him, and he couldn't blame her. Not if Darius was as awful as everyone seemed to think.
They wound through corridors lined with portraits of stern-faced mages, their eyes seeming to follow Ethan. The air grew heavier, charged with the faint hum of magic. By the time they reached a pair of tall double doors, Ethan's legs ached, and he could hear voices from the other side. They were late.
"This is it," Amara said, shifting nervously. "The Basic Elemental Manipulation classroom."
"Great," Ethan said, trying to sound confident despite the knot in his stomach. "You can go now."
She hesitated, then muttered, "You should probably go in first. It's… your class."
"Right." He paused, tempted to thank her but knowing Darius wouldn't. Instead, he gave a curt nod. "Not completely useless, I suppose."
Her eyes widened, and she gave a jerky nod before scurrying off, like she couldn't get away fast enough.
Ethan pushed open the doors, stepping into a massive room that took his breath away. High ceilings soared above, supported by stone pillars carved with glowing runes that pulsed like heartbeats. The air crackled with energy, and the desks were arranged in neat rows, most filled with students staring at the man at the front.
Professor Edwin Ignatius was exactly as Ethan had imagined him. Early forties, with hair like molten gold that seemed to flicker in the light. His skin had a warm, sun-kissed glow, and his eyes—one deep blue, one blazing amber—locked onto Ethan the moment he entered. His robes shimmered, the fabric rippling with hints of flames, waves, and wind, like he was a walking embodiment of the elements. The air around him buzzed with power, making Ethan's skin prickle.
"Well, well," Ignatius said, his voice warm but sharp enough to cut. "Look who finally decided to join us. Took the scenic route, Wycliffe?"
Ethan's mouth went dry, his face heating up. "Uh… yeah. Got a bit lost. Sorry."
"Lost?" Ignatius raised an eyebrow, his mismatched eyes sparkling with amusement. "Better than 'I couldn't be bothered,' so I'll give you a point for effort. But don't make it a habit. I'd hate to explain to your family why you're failing my class."
A few students snickered, the sound more teasing than cruel. Ethan nodded stiffly and shuffled to an empty desk near the back, his cheeks burning. He caught sight of Amara two rows ahead, her shoulders hunched as she tried to disappear into her seat. At least he wasn't the only one feeling like a wreck.
Ignatius clapped his hands, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. "Alright, delinquents! Since we're all here—" His gaze flicked to Ethan briefly "—let's get started. For those of you who've been napping through my classes, I'm Professor Edwin Ignatius, your guide to the wild, wonderful world of Elemental Manipulation. My job is to make sure you don't set yourselves—or each other—on fire. At least, not unintentionally."
The class chuckled, and Ethan managed a weak smile, though his stomach was in knots. He remembered writing Ignatius as a legend, a former adventurer who'd tamed elemental magic like it was second nature. In the novel, he was Lucien's mentor, the one who saw the hero's potential and helped him master the elements with terrifying speed. Ethan, as Darius, was the opposite—a talentless noble who'd never impressed anyone. But Ignatius's teasing tone gave him a sliver of hope. Maybe this guy could teach him something useful.
"Today," Ignatius continued, his voice commanding the room, "we're diving back into Flame Projection. Simple, effective, and only mildly dangerous if you're paying attention. If you've been keeping up, this should be a breeze."
He flicked his wrist, and a tiny flame sparked above his palm, dancing like it had a mind of its own. With a casual twist of his fingers, it morphed into a sphere of water, then a swirling tornado, then a chunk of earth that crumbled into dust. Ethan's jaw dropped. He'd written about Ignatius's skills, but seeing them in person was unreal. The air thrummed with power, and the students leaned forward, captivated.
"Elemental Manipulation is about focus and will," Ignatius said, his voice smooth but intense. "Anyone with enough mana can make a spark. But to master the elements, you need to shape them, control them, bend them to your purpose. That's what we're here to learn."
Ethan's heart raced. This was it—the kind of magic he needed to survive. If he could learn even a fraction of what Ignatius was showing, maybe he could hold his own in the exam. But doubt gnawed at him. Darius's body was weak, his mana reserves pitiful. Could he even pull off a basic spell?
"Everyone, up!" Ignatius barked. "Palms out, focus your mana, visualize the flame. Let's see what you've got. And don't worry—if you fail, you'll at least give us a good laugh."